Through The Looking Glass
by LeShyWolf
Summary: He's cynical. Sarcastic. A dork. He's also my science partner, who I slowly begin to realise means a lot more than that to me. But with his deep rooted infatuation on Lydia Martin, he only see's me as a friend. How can I deal with being friendzoned in the middle of a supernatural battlefield? Ah, such is the life of a teenager. OC/Stiles


**He's cynical. Sarcastic. A dork. He's also my friend, who I slowly begin to realise means a lot more than that to me. But with his deep rooted infatuation on Lydia Martin, he only see's me as a friend. How can I deal with being friendzoned in the middle of a supernatural battlefield? Ah, such is the life of a teenager. OC/Stiles**

* * *

Urgh.

"_No_." There's a stubborn, irked tune in my voice, laced with frustration from her persistence.

Hazel orbs flicker, a slight annoyance glimmering. The strawberry blonde waves swish gracefully over her shoulder as those analytical eyes graze over me. Her bare arms cross over her chest. Her flawless porcelain skin is radiant in the sunlight. I'm starting to wonder if she's human. She looks like she descends from an ancient Greek Goddess, maybe Aphrodite. Well, it seems realistic. "Why not?"

"I don't like parties." I inform her without even glancing at her face. I delicately sweep the pencil across the paper. When refused in something, she reveals her real self; being Satan. I'm bracing myself for the icy glare, but I can already feel it piercing through her eyes, like a laser burning into my brain. Yikes.

"You can't be a wallflower all your life." Her mouth is contracting as she purses her lips, narrowing her eyes into irritated slits. She's determined, isn't she? To make me wear a party dress, splash a ton of make up on my face and to start getting hammered. Sorry. Not gonna happen, sweetheart. "You should let loose instead of just rotting away in that much needed decorated house of yours. Have _fun_. You do know what fun is, don't you?"

"Does having fun include grinding up against random strangers, vomiting my guts all over the place and being knocked out cold on the ground?" She obviously isn't pleased, at the sight of sarcasm or the situation I'm not sure. Maybe both?

"Think of it from a different perspective." She begins, doing her best to pitch her sale to me. "You'll meet new people, you'll gain popularity in status if you're not so tight all the time. You'll be able to sit next to me at the lunch table." I smudge the ends, smoothing the edge of the shadow. "Are you even listening?"

"Sorry, what was that?" I look up, to see her with a vein popping out of her temple. Damn.

"Let's get one thing clear," She starts, yanking the paper out of my hand and glaring at me. I blink at her, raising my eye brows. "You're incredibly lucky I'm even _talking_ to you. I suggest you use it and start listening to my much needed advice and become my ally, because God help you if you're my enemy. I don't sit with losers at the lunch table, and I don't _associate_ with losers."

"Can I have my drawing back, please?" I politely ask, but I'm a little paranoid she'll do something to it.

"You want your weird, idiosyncratic drawing back?" I cross my arms over my chest, nodding and pretending to know what the hell idiosyncratic means. What? Does this girl have a bloody dictionary up in her noggin? "Then listen up sweetie, you can either be a valuable piece on the chessboard, or you can just be another pawn on the playing field. You should choose wisely. You don't want me on the opposite side of the board."

Not in the mood to be in a confrontation with her, I just sigh and nod in agreement while holding out my hand for my drawing. I may not be a chess champion or a scientist, but I'm not naive. Having Lydia Martin as an enemy is one of the worst things you can probably do. Especially in high school of all places. High school is a nightmare. Dammit. I should have been home schooled.

"Glad that you can see reason." She hands over my drawing, eyes glancing over it. Her tone is sweet but the underlay beneath the false friendliness is clearly not. "And if you don't want people to know how you draw those dark and strange pictures, I'd also suggest you conceal that. We wouldn't want people thinking you're a freak."

She pleasantly smiles, linking my arm with hers as she hauls me along the path to the front of her house where her boyfriend's car is honking. Great. I'm the new subject of fascination and a new shiny piece to her little chessboard. She's the queen, Jackson is the king. Or is it the other way around?

As I get into the back of the car and tuck the drawing away into my bag, I have to suppress a snort when I glance at the boy in the driving seat. His blue eyes glance through the rear view mirror at me with an irritated look and I can't help the smirk twitching on my lips. Jackson as a drag queen is a rather amusing image. Him in a skirt, heavy eye shadow, lipstick... I'm so lucky he can't read minds...

He's probably annoyed because he can't do naughty things to his girlfriend on the way to school or stop for a quick make-out session. Hell, for all I know he just doesn't like me. I guess I'll never know, the boy naturally looks like he has a huge pole up his arse. His broad jaw is clenching, eye brows furrowing together in a light frown almost in a brooding or moody way. I don't think I've ever seen him truly smile unless it's from his sadistic nature or because he's purely up to no good.

"So, I know I'm being kidnapped." I start, crossing my leg over the other. "But do you think you can be hospitable captures and put on some music? That's not rap or Justine Beaver?"

"Who the hell is Justine Beaver?" Poor, dim witted Jackson questions, sparing me a moody glance. Seemingly aggressive. But he doesn't scare me.

"Private joke." I assure him, but he shrugs, not giving a crap.

"Whatever." He mutters like a snobbish, spoiled child. Lydia nudges him roughly, giving him a look. He glares at her, confused. "What?"

"Are you always this irritable or is it just your cycle showing up unexpectedly?" I ask, raising an eye brow. His eyes snap towards the rear view mirror, looking angry, but he doesn't say anything back when Lydia nudges him again.

Way to make a good impression. I've only briefly met this guy twice, and not even properly. The first time was as he was leaving Lydia's and his car crossed passed me, his window was down so he glanced at me with little interest. The second time was as I walked into Lydia's bedroom without knocking, he was making out heavily with her, I had quickly ran out the room and casually told the mother that she was a little busy with biology homework before leaving. Least to say, I saw more of Lydia than I wanted to that day.

Glancing at the window, I breathe on it. Jackson looks back at me at the strange noise and looks defensive. "Hey-! what are you doing to my window?"

"Relax. I'm being artistic." I answer, drawing a smiley face on the glass. I was thinking to draw a dragon but just went simple. "And I'm bored."

"Don't touch my car!"

"Do you want me to levitate so I don't touch your seats as well?" I scoff.

"That's it." He snaps, Lydia gasps and I jump when the car swerves to the side of the road. What the hell is he doing?

"Jackson-! What are you doing?!" Lydia echoes my thoughts as he gets out the car, storming around and opening my car door. He leans his hand on the roof, glaring down at me with his icy blue eyes.

"Get out." He demands impatiently, annoyed. Lydia gets out the car and grabs his arm, an irritated look on her face.

"I don't know the way to school!" I tell him, getting angry. Lydia wanted me to sleep round hers last night so she could "_correct_" what I'm wearing and asked Jackson last night if he could drop us off. If I'm late in just the _first day_, it's not gonna look good.

"Well that's too bad," he growls, shrugging Lydia off as she tries to convince him to leave it. He moves to the side slightly, gesturing for me to manoeuvre myself. "_Get_. _Out_."

"Jackson! Stop it!" Lydia hisses, yanking his arm and whispering something to him.

He snatches his arm away angrily and storms over to me. I cry out in surprise when I'm suddenly in the air before realising Jackson has picked me up. My feet slam against the concrete and I stumble back onto my backside when he shoves me back to the ground. He quickly picks up a protesting Lydia over his shoulder, throws her in the back of his car and drives off. I sit there for a while, staring after them as he exceeds the speed limit.

Well. Um. Shit.

I stand up, brushing myself off. I'm sure anyone would throw a temper tantrum, especially Whittemore. But, seeing as I'm a laid back person who is being calm and finding no point in being angry right now. I start walking. A pang of irritation pierces me, but I shrug it off. Karma will get him back, I'll be absolutely fine.

Besides, I have a phone.

And phone, equals help.

But strangely enough, as soon as I'm dialling my uncle's number, a familiar looking car is driving back down the road. I raise my eye brows as he comes near me and stumble back a couple of steps so he doesn't run me over. The window rolls down, revealing a very pissed off, reluctant Jackson Whittemore and a smug looking Lydia in the front seat. His pride looks hurt. He's sneering at me. My uncle picks up the phone.

"_Hello_?" He sounds a little aggravated, but that's natural, considering who he is.

"Well? Are you getting in or what?" Jackson aggressively hisses at me, narrowing his eyes and glowering as if he can just set me on fire. A smirk is on display on his girlfriend's plump, glossy lips. Her eyes are gleaming with victory. Hmm, maybe having her on my side isn't such a bad thing after all.

"_Hello_? _What_? _Why'd you call me_?" He sounds a little aggravated, but that's natural, considering who he is. Maybe dealing with that guy that torments him again.

"I thought you'd never ask." I tell him with a false pleasant tone, hanging up the phone without answering my rather annoyed uncle. I'll deal with his irritation later. Right now, I just woke the furious lion inside Jackson. Speaking of... jeez, if looks can kill...

I hop into the back of the car, glancing over at Lydia and nodding towards her with a smirk of my own, getting comfortable in the car. I suppose it isn't so bad being friends with the cliché popular girl. Though, I wonder what she said to change his mind and let me hitch a ride with them again. On the other hand, I think until I get to the school, I should probably keep my mouth shut.

When we do arrive, Jackson gets out the car first, but slams his door against a poor guy's bike then threatens him on how he should watch the paint job on his car when he clearly did it on purpose. Lydia gets out too, wondering off and calling Jackson to follow him. I roll my eyes and get out too, putting my hand on the glass to create a print. "Oh. Look. I'm touching your precious window again."

He doesn't reply, only clenches his jaw and storms off. Lydia practically skips after him in her heels. I have no idea what Lydia sees in him- well, besides the body. But his personality makes him as attractive as mud to me. I see no appeal. Yuck. Even his name just disgusts me. Jackson Whittemore. _Ew_.

"Uh- thanks,"

I turn around to face him. His jaw is slightly crooked as he gives me a spread of his lips and straps his helmet on his bike, his warm brown eyes meet mine and I nod. "It's not a problem. I honestly don't know what Lydia sees in him."

"Popularity?" He jokes, tilting his head to the side and squinting in the sun a little. I share a grin.

"Makes sense." I agree, then decide if I'm gonna find my class on time I should get an early head start. "Well, I have to go. But maybe I'll see you at Lydia's party on Friday, she's inviting mostly everyone or so I hear."

"Yeah, maybe..." He seems a bit doubtful, but I shrug it off and walk away towards my first class. It's slow, starting with the tedious introductions and the repeating questions of what it's like where I'm from, a few things about me like the mundane facts. Like how I have a pet, my name, among other little things. I don't mention how I have an older relative that works in the school. From his reputation, he isn't popular with students. I don't fancy being bullied because of who I'm related to.

By the time it's lunch. I do a quick trip to the canteen, I consume a sandwich and raspberry blue coloured slushie and feel myself smile in content when I finish. I then start walking and wondering down the corridor towards my locker, I pass by all the rushing students that want to get to their lesson and enter my own. The teacher isn't even here yet. I can see that most of the seats are taken so I just plop down in a random chair.

I kick my bag underneath the desk after getting out my sketching pad and continue the doodle from earlier before Lydia yanked it away. Strange drawing, really. A blurry shadow is sprinting through the trees in the distance, it looks like an animal of some sort. The moon is mostly the only thing that's clear in the picture, really. Glowing radiantly above the forest along with the glistening stars in the night sky.

It's a cough that snaps me out of my reverie. My eyes flicker up, surprise running through me when I see the kid, the one Jackson was a dick to, from earlier. He's standing there with his bag swung over his left shoulder, holding onto the strap. His other hand is behind his head, rubbing his neck almost awkwardly as he tilts his head to the side. His slightly crooked jaw twists into a sheepish grin.

"Hey," his brown eyes glimmer with warmth. I lean back in my chair with a smile.

"Oh, hi! Scott, right?" He nods as he sits down on my left. "What can I do you for?"

"Uh, you were actually in my seat. But it's don't worry about it, I'll use the one next to you." Oh... _Oh_, right. Awkward. "Um... can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I grin. His eye brows raise and he leans forward, lowering his voice. I frown a little in confusion. Why is he whispering?

"You're, um... why is your mouth is blue?" Uh, what?

"Excuse me?" I blink at him. My mouth is blue... why the- oh...Oh! "Oh... _Oh God_. The slushie."

"Slushie?" Scott seems befuddled. "Where did you get a slushie?"

"They were selling slushie's in the canteen, to raise money for the uh, ill lunch lady. I guess I forgot how much they make your mouth a different colour." Despite looking stupid, I can't help the sheepish grin. He laughs, with me or at me I don't know. But when he smiles at me warmly, I know he's not teasing me and that he's laughing _with_ me. He seems to be a nice guy.

"I'm telling you Scott, it's a popularity appearance thing. She has this mask that she puts up. She likes me real- _woah_...!"

At the unfamiliar voice, we both look up towards Scott's right to see a guy with a very short buzz cut. His clothes raise some questions in my mind. He has a blazer with a hoodie underneath and a black shirt with a dartboard decorating it along with dark jeans. And Lydia says my fashion sense is bad. Why the hell is he wearing a blazer? We had to wear those at school back at home, but everyone did it unwillingly.

"I-uh-what-?" Wide hazel eyes are staring at me in alarm. Scott nudges his ribcage to stop his stutter spree. The dude leans over to him, attempting to whisper, but he obviously doesn't know what whispering is. "Why the hell is her mouth blue? Has she got some kind of sexual disease or genetic condition or something?"

"I had a slushie." I deadpan before Scott can reply, expression blank and stoic. He raises his eye brows into his buzz cutt, eyes widening even more, if that's possible.

"Where did you get a _slushie_?"

"The canteen. They were selling them to raise money for the ill lunch lady in hospital." I inform him tiredly. Scott nearly sighs when he does some dramatic, wild hand gesture. He must do it a lot. Scott is obviously used to it.

"They're selling slushies?!" Stiles looks at Scott in disbelief. "They're selling _slushies_?!"

"Does he have some kind of weird slushie fetish?" I can't help but be sarcastic, a little curious as to why the hell he's getting so worked up over this. Is it a miracle they're selling slushies?

"Slushie fet-" Stiles looks taken aback, before looking irritated. "What the hell is a- how can you even-" I snort. Wow, I really am a little sadistic. This guy seems to be fun to annoy. "H-hey! How can I have a slushie fetish? I don't have a slushie fetish! I don't even know what a slushie fetish! For starters, it sounds incredibly disturbing and weird and-"

"Mr. Stilinski, if you're _quite done_ with telling the world your denial about your strange fascination with slushie fetish's, could you take a seat?" He gulps and swiftly turns around. What kind of name is Stilinski? Is it foreign?

"Adrian! You look good-uh, great- _fantastic_-! Did you get a haircut? New shoes?" Mr. Harris doesn't look amused. He's staring down at Stiles with a stoic look. Stilinski's voice goes a little strained and high pitched from slight fear. "So, I-uh- what about those new glasses, huh? Those are some really _good looking specs_-"

"Stilinski. Sit down." Mr. Harris demands in a 'I'm going to kill you' kind of tone. His eyes widen and he rushes to his chair, fumbling about and actually falling onto _me_, making a lot of thudding noises. I push him off with a glare. He retreats and shrinks on his seat. Dumbass.

"Sitting." He quickly replies, nodding his head and scratching his temple with a sheepish look. He tucks his chair in, causing a high pitched shrieking as it drags against the ground. I cringe. Mr. Harris has a throbbing vein popping out of his temple as he clenches his jaw, glaring at the Stilinski kid. The boy himself chuckles nervously, coughing as he clears his throat.

"Are you finished?" He asks in a false pleasant tone, lips in a thin line. "Are you comfortable?"

"I'm comf-comfortable. My butt is loving the _comfortableness_. I feel _content _with the amount of comfortable I am right now. I am now level with my comf-" Mr. Harris glowers. He clears his throat. "Y-yeah, it's-it's comfortable."

"_Mr. McCall_, please _sit_ at the back with _Mr. Lucas_." Stilinski looks up. Scott stares at Mr. Harris in confusion. "Reminding you what happened last time you sat near Mr. Stilinski. Do I need to write out instructions for you? Go. Now." Like a puppy, he quickly obeys the teachers orders. More gracefully than the clumsy dumass next to me. "I believe you're the new student."

It takes a moment to sink in, but I glance up and see everyone staring at me. I silently list all the ways I can torture Mr. Harris for putting me on the spot before painting a smile on my face and nodding. "Yes, sir."

"Wow, a student with manners." He says. Then he turns around and picks up a text book, walking over towards me and placing it down in front of me. He looks up and stares piercingly at the boy next to me with narrowing eyes. "Maybe you'll be a good influence on your classmate."

"Yeah, and my name is Trisha." Stilinski mutters as he starts to walk away. He halts in his footsteps, his hazel eyes widen a few inches and he sinks down in his chair, looking away.

"Trisha, be welcoming to your new classmate." A few students giggle as he grumbles and hides in his textbook. "You'll be her science partner from now on, after all."

"W-what?" We both stammer. The bastard smirks, lifting an eye brow as he leans back on the surface of his desk. My hands clench underneath the table and I restrain myself from vomiting sarcasm and witty comebacks all over him.

"Is there a problem?"

I swallow my pride, inwardly scowling. "No, Mr. Harris."

"Good." He turns away, typing on his laptop as we begin the lesson.

After a couple of minutes, I glance over towards Stilinski to see he's balancing a pencil on his nose. It falls and he leans over to the side to pick it up from the floor while standing on two chair legs. An echoing boom reverberates on the walls as he falls to the ground. He releases a strained groan and exclaims he's okay before fumbling back up and sitting on the chair again. Smiling sheepishly as Mr. Harris glowers at him from over the rim of his glasses. I pinch the bridge of my nose with deep sigh.

Great. I'm stuck with a dumbass.

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**What'cha think?**

**Okay, so. I haven't done a TW story in... well, ages. I lost motivation. But with a new adoration for Stiles and hankering for TW, I'm starting this fic. Honestly, I hope you guys like it. This is my second TW story. I got stuck with my first because I thought the latest chapter was bad and I couldn't get the motivation to continue it. But here, have this. I hope you guys do enjoy it enough to leave a review.**

**:'3**

~E


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